“You’re—you’re moving the President? Like Major Seagle said?”
“Yes, but it was important not to let potential traitors in the faculty know. You must not discuss it with anyone.”
Ky had just settled back in the chair at her desk when her skullphone pinged. Grace.
“Ky, I know you’re busy, but I wanted to warn you about what’s going on in the legislature.”
“The legislature?” The only thing she knew about the legislature was that they refused to leave the chambers “until the bombs are falling,” as one of them put it.
“It affects you slightly, but mostly me, for being Rector. The President and Council are planning to throw the situation with the Miksland personnel to the standing committee on military affairs. Did you know your survivors came from every continent but Miksland?”
“Yes,” Ky said.
“Well, it’s a mess. Continental legislatures are furious about what happened, as well they might be, but some of them are also divided. My neck is on the block, as far as some are concerned, and I can’t blame them.”
“You couldn’t have known,” Ky said.
“I should have known. I should never have taken this post. That’s tearing them apart, Ky.”
“It’s not all that’s coming apart. Nothing you did would spark something this big. Hiding the truth about Miksland began long before you were born.” Ky spoke harshly; Grace needed to get over her guilt trip and start thinking clearly about the present mess.
“You’re right about that,” Grace said. Ky could hear her sigh. “Right now what matters is spiking this incipient civil war, because that’s not going to help anyone, whoever wins it.”
“Good. Start with that. Admit that you didn’t know, it was a mistake and can be dealt with later, but right now—we’ve got the murders and the mistreatment of military personnel to cope with, and the conspiracy behind them. Start fast and keep going. Don’t let them talk over you.”
“You sound like me,” Grace said. Her voice was stronger now.
“No, you sound like you. They can cut you in pieces and fry you later, but right now they need to save the government and the security of the whole planet. Put that way, they’ll fall in line.”
“Unless they’re involved,” Grace said.
“And then you’ll know,” Ky said. “And so will everyone else.” She felt peculiar, giving advice to Grace, who had given so much advice to all the Vatta children.
“All right. I’ll do my best.”
“Do you want me to be there? As Commandant?”
“No, I don’t think so. The Commandant has always stayed away from the Grand Council unless invited. If you’re invited, though, I’d say come.”
Grace Vatta sat staring at the wall for a moment, thinking about Ky’s advice. Why hadn’t she thought of that herself? A tap on the door interrupted her.
“Rector, you have a visitor—in uniform—Commander Basil Orniakos.”
Grace just managed not to gasp. Orniakos, Region VII AirDefense, with whom she’d had that disastrous argument when the shuttle went down. Orniakos… she could not remember all the things she’d found out about him… why was he here? He was stationed on the far side of the planet.
“I’ll see him,” she said. She left the papers she’d been studying on top of the desk, and made sure her personal weapon was in reach.
The door opened; she recognized him from his image, loaded into her implant more than a half year ago.
“Rector Vatta,” he said; he stood stiffly.
“Please sit down,” she said, waving to a chair. “And forgive me for not rising to welcome you; this is my first day back in the office.”
“I was appalled when I heard you’d been poisoned,” he said, pulling a chair a little closer to the desk before sitting down. “Have you found out who stole the toxin from the military?”
“Not yet, though I suspect the instigator was Michael Quindlan. According to my great-niece, who had the message fairly directly, he intends to kill us all—me, my great-nieces still alive, and my other great-niece’s two children.”
“Rector, you may be wondering why I am here, and not contacting you in a more… conventional way.”
“I assume you have a good reason,” Grace said. “Besides showing that you, as well as I, could jump the chain of command. A mistake, in my case.”
A glint of humor flashed in his face, then vanished. “I hope this will not prove to be one. I believe I have information that should go immediately to this office.” He opened the briefcase he carried. “This is a letter I received shortly after our previous… encounter… from someone who believed I was ripe for recruitment to their faction. Their research was inadequate; though I was angry with you on that day, and sore about it for a week or so, in the long run nothing could turn me from a loyal officer to a traitor. However—I let them think I was tempted. And this is what I found.” He laid the letter and a data cube on her desk. “I have the names of what I believe are ringleaders in an attempt to restore Separatist territories. Miksland was to be the first. I did not know that until after the breakout there.”
Grace picked up the letter, looked at the signature, and looked back up at Orniakos. “Greyhaus?”
“Yes. I—one of the reasons I hadn’t contacted you, Rector, following that… disagreement we had was that I’d had subtle signals that if I was in your doghouse, someone else might turn it into a mansion. I waited, to see what would happen. And this came. Interesting, I thought, that it came from someone of the same rank, in another branch.”
“And it came as an actual letter, not electronically?”
“Yes. This is, as you see, a copy; the original self-destructed after an hour. So no fingerprints or other biological evidence, except—” Orniakos grinned, a feral grin, and laid down a photographic enlargement of fingerprints. “I had anticipated that real conspirators would take precautions. So there was ample time to copy this letter photographically under several filters. Now that Greyhaus is dead, it might be useful to compare the fingerprints that were not his and not mine with the military database.”
“It might indeed,” Grace said.
“The data cube has lists and dossiers on all the personnel I found whom I believe are associated with the plot. The further communication between us—Greyhaus was supposedly my handler—” Again, the feral grin. “—is also in that data cube, composed on a machine that has never been connected to any other. You will have to take my word for it, however, because I never received paper communication once they became sure of my allegiance.”
“Interesting, that they thought they had such secure electronic links.”
“Yes, I thought so. They disappeared about the time the second mercenaries were heading down to Miksland. What I did get then was word of a fire on a server farm somewhere on Dorland and another on Fulland.” He lifted one eyebrow.
Grace nodded. “Yes, such fires did occur. A less-than-perfectly-successful effort to disrupt communications between Pingat Base and the Black Torch mercenary company.”
“Rector, I can leave this information with you—or, if you wish, give you my summary.”
“Please do give me your summary. Are you willing to have another person—to whom I’d pass it on anyway, I must tell you—hear it as well?”
“Certainly. That would be Master Sergeant MacRobert, would it not?”
“I was thinking also of General Molosay.”
“Fine, if he can come here. I would rather not be seen on the base right now.”
“Where does your command think you are?”